


Giuseppe Stromboli and the Briefcase of Meatballs

by LordOfTheBeans



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Guiseppe Stromboli and the Breifcase of Meatballs, harry potter who?, there is only guiseppe, yes this was inspired by the twitter thread
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:13:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25965655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordOfTheBeans/pseuds/LordOfTheBeans
Summary: Giuseppe Stromboli, an incredibly average young adult, goes on an adventure at Chickentart's School of Cooking and Culinary Arts
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone! Yes, this was inspired by the infamous twitter thread. Please forgive me, I was inspired.

Giuseppe Stromboli was an average young adult with startling green orbs and hair the color of burnt pasta. He always wore an apron. He also had a scar on his forehead, which he had gotten when he slipped and fell on a jar of marinara sauce as a juvenile. The only thing that made him not average was that he could cook very well without ever having been taught, although his talents went unappreciated in his house, where they only ate plain toast and boiled carrots.

Giuseppe did not like his Aunt Rose Firstly and Uncle Vermont Firstly, who had adopted him after his parent’s tragic death when he was an infant. His aunt and uncle did not like to talk about Giuseppe’s parents. Giuseppe did not like his aunt and uncle.

Giuseppe also did not like his cousin, Cuddly. Cuddly did not like Italian food and was very skinny, liked books, and had started a friendship club at their school. Giuseppe did not like Cuddly.

Today was Cuddly’s birthday. Aunt Rose and Uncle Vermont, being modest and humble and not wanting to spoil their son, had not bought Cuddly many presents. Cuddly strolled into the living room and said, “Thank you Mother and Father for the gifts you have given me. I truly appreciate the thought and effort that went into this.”

Uncle Vermont looked up from the table. He was as skinny as his son. He was clean-shaven. Uncle Vermont worked in real estate and did not like to shout. “You are very welcome, Cuddly,” he said softly, sipping his coffee and watching his son warily out the corner of his eye.

Aunt Rose, who had been standing in the kitchen, walked into the living room carrying a plate of plain toast. Aunt Rose was rather portly and wore fashionable clothes. Giuseppe did not like Aunt Rose. From the sofa, Giuseppe watched in disdain as Cuddly accepted the toast from his mother with thanks and began to eat methodically as he opened his presents.

“Thank you mother for nourishing me both mentally and nutriciously,” said Cuddly, taking a bite of toast as he unwrapped a book called _101 Ways to Become a Better Student_.

Uncle Vermont glanced out the window. “It is a beautiful day,” he said softly. “We should go out after breakfast and take a walk to strengthen our cardiovascular systems.”

Cuddly swallowed a mouthful of toast. “Yes Father.”

Uncle Vermont sighed subtly. “The only way this could be a nicer day is if we were living in the state of Vermont in the middle of autumn, the leaves slowly burying us in our house as they fall in drifts and we drink maple syrup as toasts to Cuddly’s date of birth.”

Cuddly chewed and swallowed another bite of toast. “Yes, Father,” he said.

Giuseppe sat up on the couch. “Would y’all mind if I stayed behind? I don’t feel so good this morning.” Aunt Rose exchanged a look with Uncle Vermont. “That would be perfectly alright, Giuseppe, although we had thought this might be a good opportunity to strengthen our filial bonds as well as our cardiovascular systems.”

Giuseppe smiled. “Thanks, Aunt Rose.” He was already plotting what he would cook once his family was out of the house.

Aunt Rose left the living room and returned with the mail. “Giuseppe, there is a letter for you,” she said, handing him the envelope. It was a very average envelope with a stamp that had a maple leaf on it. Uncle Vermont spotted the leaf and sighed nostalgically.

Cuddly finished his toast and unwrapping his presents. In addition to _101 Ways to Become a Better Student_ , he got a chemistry set and a gift card to the science museum.

“Father, I am ready for a stroll,” said Cuddly, getting up from his seat and taking his plate to the sink. He washed his plate while his parents put on their shoes.

“Goodbye, Giuseppe,” said Aunt Rose, Uncle Vermont, and Cuddly almost in unison. “We hope you feel better.”

“Thanks, y’all,” said Giuseppe Italianly, already getting out pots and boxes of pasta in the kitchen. As soon as he heard the door shut, Giuseppe began to make bucatini all’amatriciana. As the pasta water was boiling, Giuseppe opened his letter and began to read.

_Dear Mr. Stromboli,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Chickentarts School of Cooking and Culinary Arts. Your first term starts on September 1. We await your reply no later than July 31. Please find enclosed a list of necessary supplies._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Magenta McDonalds Deputy Headmistress_

“Wowsers!” Said Giuseppe, dropping a handful of pasta into the boiling water. “I’ve always wanted to go to Chickentarts, or I would have if I knew what that was!”

As if on cue, the doorbell rang. Giuseppe went to the door to see who it was and found himself staring up at a huge, towering man with a tangled beard and a mane of dark hair that almost completely hid his face.

“Giuseppe? Do you have a moment to discuss your education?”

“Who are you?” asked Giuseppi Italianly.

“I am Ruby Hagrid, Keeper of the Keys and Spices at Chickentarts,” said Mr. Hagrid.

“Super duper, Mr. Hagrid,” said Giuseppi. “I just got a letter from you guys.”

Mr. Hagrid sighed. “Yeah, they send those an’ then they send me, too. I don’t know why I try.”

Giuseppe blinked his orbs. “Er, would you like to come in, Mr. Hagrid? I was just making pasta.”

Mr. Hagrid blinked back at Giuseppe. “At this hour?” then he smiled behind his bushy beard. “It’s all the same with you cooking kids, ain’t it?” He brushed past Giuseppe and into the house. Like a good host, Giuseppe sat Mr. Hagrid down in the living room and brought him a steaming hot bowl of bucatini all’amatriciana. Mr. Hagrid took one bite and looked Giuseppe in the eye.

“Yer a chef, Giuseppe,” he said.

“I’m a what?” Giuseppe said in surprise.

“Yer a chef, and a thumpin’ good one once you’ve been trained up a little,” said Mr. Hagrid, nibbling on his pasta.

Giuseppe blinked, and tears puddled at the corners of his eyes. “No one’s ever told me they like my cooking before,” sobbed Giuseppe wetly.

“Giuseppe, we’re home!” called Aunt Rose. The front door shut firmly.

“Giuseppe, who’s this?” asked Uncle Vermont as he entered the living room. Mr. Hagrid stood, his bowl of bucatini all’amatriciana in his hand.

“I am Ruby Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Spices at Chickentarts School of Cooking and Culinary arts. I suppose you must be Vermont and Rose, Giuseppe’s aunt and uncle?”

Uncle Vermont narrowed his eyes and said very softly, “You wouldn’t happen to be from Vermont, would you? You seem very polite and well mannered.”

Hagrid drew a deep breath. “Listen ‘ere you piece of trash, Giuseppe said no one ever tells him they like his cooking! It’s darn good cooking. He has a place at Chickentart's if he wants.”

Uncle Vermont blinked and sighed softly. “Must be from Maine,” he said, turning and going into the kitchen.

Aunt Rose looked horrified. “Giuseppe! We told you not to cook pasta anymore, for your own safety!”

“We all have celiac disease, a condition causing intolerance to gluten,” said Cuddly scientifically to Mr. Hagrid. “We cannot eat pasta.”

“What do you mean, for my own safety?” asked Giuseppe in a concerned voice. “I don’t have celiac disease.”

“If you or a loved one has been diagnosed with celiac disease, you may be entitled to financial compensation,” said Cuddly, eyeing his chemistry set.

“Before your parents died tragically, they told us cooking would be dangerous for you and not to let you cook for the sake of your own physical and mental health,” said Aunt Rose.

“Well, cooking hasn’t done him any harm yet, has it?” Mr. Hagrid said.

Uncle Vermont stuck his head out of the kitchen. “Yet.” A few nervous looks were exchanged and there was a moment of awkward silence.

Finally, Guiseppe said, “I want to go to Chickentarts.”

“It’s in Vermont,” said Mr. Hagrid helpfully.

“Okay,” said Aunt Rose and Uncle Vermont in unison. Cuddly went over to Giuseppe and gave him a hug. Cuddly’s cardigan smelled like pennies.

“It’s decided, then!” said Mr. Hagrid, beaming. “Giuseppe goes to Chickentarts. Get yer stuff, we’re going now.”

Giuseppe went to his room and got his suitcase. He packed a change of clothes and some other things and went back downstairs.

“Let’s go,” he said to Mr. Hagrid.

Mr. Hagrid and Giuseppe waved goodbye to Aunt Rose, Uncle Vermont, and Cuddly and went over to Mr. Hagrid’s tandem bicycle, which he had left by the curb. They got on and cycled off.


	2. Diagonal Alley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guiseppe goes to Diagonal Alley to get his spoon

“This isn’t Chickentarts,” said Giuseppe as Mr. Hagrid’s bicycle stopped in front of a run-down chiropractor’s office.

“Nae, it ain’t,” said Mr. Hagrid, getting off the bike onto the crumbly curb, “Yer gonna need yer stuff, wont you?”

Giuseppe stared at the winking sign of Creaky Spine’s Chiropractic Practices. Half the letters were out. “This is where I get my stuff, then?”

“Yeah,” said Mr. Hagrid. “Besides, this is me chiropractor’s office. I have fibromyalgia and require medical treatment.”

“Okay!” said Giuseppe, and went to open the door for Mr. Hagrid. 

They entered the chiropractor’s office and were immediately struck by the fact that it was not a chiropractor’s office. It smelled like garlic and-- Giuseppe took a deep sniff-- feta cheese. It was one room, which was entirely empty except for an old man in the corner who was wearing a trench coat and a broad-brimmed hat. 

“Hello, Mr. Pimento!” said Mr. Hagrid, walking up to the old man.

“Why hello there, dear Ruby,” said the old man, Mr. Pimento. “How is your fibromyalgia?” 

Mr. Hagrid jumped and took a step back. “How did you know I have fibromyalgia?”

Mr. Pimento sighed. “I’m your chiropractor, Ruby, how many times do I have to tell you?”

Mr. Hagrid blinked and chuckled. “Oh yeah, almost forgot.”

“Can I get my stuff now?” said Giuseppe Italianly. “Once y’all’re done chatting, of course.”

“Certainly, my dearest, sweetest, most Italian boy!” said Mr. Pimento, jumping up and reaching into the pocket of his trench coat. “Welcome to Diagonal Alley! I assume you are here for your spoon?”

Giuseppe blinked. “My what? I thought this was a chiropractor’s office?”

“Your spoon, boy, your instrument of cooking, your gateway to the universe!” said Mr. Pimento.

“This isn’t really a chiropractor’s office,” said Mr. Hagrid. “This is actually Diagonal Alley!”

“But it’s not an alley, it’s just one room, y’all,” said Giuseppe in confusion.

“Enough talk!” Barked Mr. Pimento, pulling a teaspoon from his pocket and handing it to Giuseppe. “Well, give it a stir!”

Giuseppe made a stirring motion with the teaspoon and Mr. Pimento snatched it back. “No, no, definitely not. How about this?” Mr. Pimento handed Giuseppe a ladle and Giuseppe repeated the experiment. “No!” Mr. Pimento screamed, grabbing the ladle. “That is most certainly not it!”

“Hmm,” said Mr. Pimento, pulling out a wooden sauce spoon, “What about this one?”

Giuseppe took the spoon and gave it a stir. Mr. Pimento shrieked with laughter. “Yes, yes, perfect! I am a genius!”

Mr. Hagrid clapped Giuseppe on the back as Giuseppe stuck the spoon into the pocket of his apron.

“Curious,” said Mr. Pimento quietly.

“What about, Mr. Pimento?” asked Giuseppe. 

Mr. Pimento glared at Giuseppe, tipping his hat. “It means something of interest, not a question, you nimrod,” said Mr. Pimento. “I was just thinking about how popular that particular model of spoon is.”

“Oh,” said Giuseppe.

“Oh is right,” said Mr. Pimento. “Now, you and Ruby should be on your way. But one more thing!”

From deep inside his trenchcoat, Mr. Pimento drew out a briefcase. The smell of meatballs filled the empty room, mingling with the garlic and feta cheese. “For you and your fibromyalgia, Ruby,” said Mr. Pimento, handing the briefcase of meatballs to Mr. Hagrid. “Guard it with your life and entrust it only to Bumblebore, capish?”

“Oh yeah,” said Mr. Hagrid, taking the briefcase. “I’ll guard this so well, no one will even know it’s being guarded!”

Mr. Pimento frowned, tipping the brim of his hat. “See to it, Ruby. Begone, now, travellers!”

Mr. Pimento swept his coat around him and settled himself in the corner once more. 

“Go, go, go,” Mr. Hagrid hissed, ushering Giuseppe from the chiropractic office, briefcase in hand.

They apparently made it out the door just in time, because Mr. Hagrid said, “Phew, made it out just in time.”

Giuseppe smiled and nodded. “That was a close one, y’all,” he said Italianly to no one in particular. Then to Mr. Hagrid, he said, “So, what else do I need?”

Mr. Hagrid smiled and ruffled Giuseppe’s burnt pasta hair with his free hand. “You won’t be needing anything else, just yer spoon and a willingness to believe in the power of friendship and spices.”

Giuseppe beamed. “Are we going to Chickentarts now, then?”

Mr. Hagrid beamed too. “We sure are, sport.”


	3. Chickentarts School of Cooking and Culinary Arts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Giuseppe goes to Chickentarts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all, sorry I haven't been good with posting, I've been pretty busy. But I have returned!! Bearing gifts! Have another chapter as a treat. Enjoy, my dudes.

They pedalled for a while on Mr. Hagrid’s bike before they stopped at the foot of a hill. “Here we are!” said Mr. Hagrid.

“Mr. Hagrid, there’s nothing here,” said Giuseppe, looking around.

Mr. Hagrid chuckled and reached into his pocket, pulling out a bottle labeled 'spices.' “That’s because we have to believe in the power of spices to get us there! Take out yer spoon, Giuseppe.”

Giuseppe took out his spoon and offered it to Mr. Hagrid, who uncorked the bottle of spices and dumped a little into Giuseppe’s spoon.

“Now, on the count of three, we must eat the spices and say 'Chickentarts' three times fast. Are ye read, Giuseppe?”

“Yes, yes yes!” said Giuseppe, jumping up and down. Quickly, he gobbled up half the spices and gave the rest to Mr. Hagrid.

“Chickentarts, Chickentarts, Chickentarts!” They shouted together, and suddenly the world looked like the inside of a piece of penne pasta. Giuseppe had never been on a roller coaster (Aunt Rose and Uncle Vermont did not think roller coasters were enriching experiences even if they did strengthen cardiovascular functions due to unnecessary stress) but if he had, he would have described the feeling as being similar to that.

“Whoopee!” Cried Giuseppe as they shot out the end of the pasta onto a grassy hill. Mr. Hagrid landed beside him and quickly got to his feet. He was a strange shade of purple.

“Welcome to Chickentarts!” Said the purple Mr. Hagrid, gesturing to the castle that rose up before them upon the hill. Its walls were strangely squishy and brown, and it took Giuseppe a moment to realize that the castle was entirely made of bread.

“Cool beans!” Said Giuseppe, getting up and walking towards the bread castle.

Outside the front steps, a group of other young adults waited. “Hey, y’all,” said Giuseppe Italianly.

“Hey,” said a few kids.

“So,” said Giuseppe, leaning nonchalantly against a baguette pillar, “Is it y’all’s first time here, too?”

The kids nodded. Giuseppe became aware that they were staring at him. “What?” he asked.

“Where are your parents?” asked a girl with an oddly blue cast to her face.

“They’re dead,” said Giuseppe.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. How did they die?” asked the blue girl.

“Tragically,” said Giuseppe.

“I’m Mermione Danger, what’s your name?” asked the blue girl. 

“Giuseppe Stromboli,” said Giuseppe.

“Pleasure to meet you,” said Mermione.

“Why are you blue?” asked Giuseppe.

“Oh my gnocchi, Giuseppe, you can’t just ask people why they’re blue,” said a voice from behind him.

Giuseppe turned around and came face to face with a very blond, very evil-looking boy. “My name is Taco Bon-Voyage,” said the boy. “After such a serious social blunder as that, you’re going to need some help making friends. I can help you there.” Taco stuck out a hand as if to shake Giuseppe’s.

“Actually, I didn’t mind your asking,” said Mermione. “I’m half mermaid on my father’s side. Luckily I didn’t get gills.”

Giuseppe smiled. “Cool! Does that mean we can be friends?”

Mermione smiled. “Sure!”

Taco pouted as Mermione and Giuseppe walked away together, chatting. In that moment, Taco swore revenge. He turned to his two friends, Deville Shorttop and Wheet. “I swear I’ll get revenge someday,” he said. Deville cracked his knuckles and straightened his Gucci vest. Wheet tried not to look too frightened.

Suddenly, the front doors of the bread castle opened wide and a tall woman in purple robes stepped out. “New students!” she said. “I am Professor Magenta McDonalds, deputy headmistress here at Chickentarts. If you would follow me, we will be sorting you into your houses shortly. While you are here, your house will be like your family. Approach the podium when your name is called. Come along!”

Professor McDonalds turned and walked back into the castle. Mermione and Giuseppe exchanged a look and followed. It felt strange walking on bread, very soft and squishy, but the air smelled warm and yeasty.

The group of young adults made their way through the entrance hall into a larger room filled with four tables where students already sat. The new students filed between the tables and gathered at the front of the room, where there was a teacher’s table. Over each of the student’s table was a banner, each emblazoned with a symbol. There was one with a red dog, one with a blue owl, one with a green sea snail, and one with a fluffy yellow cat.

“Hmm,” thought Giuseppe. “Whatever could those stand for?”

Beside Giuseppe, Mermione was talking very quickly. “Oh, I know all about McDonalds and the four houses. They’re Grizzly Door, Slyther-sin, Cream-puff and Denny’s! I know everything, I’m so smart.”

“I’m glad you’re smart, Mermione, what would I do without you?” said Giuseppe.

“Be ill-informed,” said Mermione wisely.

“Quiet down!” Said McDonalds. “The sorting ceremony is about to begin!”

McDonald stepped behind a podium at the teacher’s table and pulled a chef’s hat out from behind her back. “The Cooking Hat will decide your fate. Tuna Hatebad!”

A young adult scurried up to the podium, where Mcdonalds placed the Cooking Hat on her head. “Denny’s!” Shrieked McDonalds. Cheers erupted from the table with the blue banner, and Tuna went to join them. Giuseppe couldn’t notice that Tuna was crying.

“Why is she crying?” asked Giuseppe. 

“She wanted to go to Cream-puff,” said Mermione wisely. “It was her life’s ambition to bake and help others.”

Giuseppe nodded in understanding. Next up was Gatorward, who got Grizzly Door. He was also crying. He had wanted Cream-puff too, apparently. 

“Giuseppe Stromboli!” McDonalds called. The dining hall fell silent. Giuseppe went up to the podium. He could hear people whispering.

“So average--”

“Look at that sick apron--”

“Bet he makes pasta--”

“I wish I could be just like Giuseppe Stromboli--”

Giuseppe smiled confidently when the Cooking hat went on his head. “Grizzly Door!” Shrieked McDonalds. “You’re a failure,” McDonalds whispered as she took the hat off of Giuseppe’s head.

“So are you,” said Giuseppe as he passed. McDonalds bristled. 

Giuseppe went to the cheering Grizzly Door table and sat down on a bench lined with cushions of wheat rolls. Soon everyone else was sorted. Mermione joined the Grizzly Door table. Taco, Deville, and a boy called Nicholas Phineas joined Slither-sin, and two boys called Ronold and Wheet joined Cream-puff.

“Let the feast begin!” Cried McDonalds. The young adults cheered and reached out around themselves, for the floor, the walls, and the cushions. They ripped chunks of bread from the castle and began to eat. Giuseppe followed suit and found that the castle was delicious.

“Hey, pass me a piece of that wall,” said Mermione, chowing down on a cushion. Giuseppe passed her the bread.

Once the feast was over, an old man got up from the teacher’s table and went over to the podium. He called for silence.

“I am your headmaster, Alfred Bumblebore,” said Bumblebore. “I would like to thank the castle for a most excellent feast and I bid you all good night. But first, a few words!”

Bumblebore cleared his throat and said, “Green beans, peppermint, popcorn, pork chops, thank you.”

There was a collective sound of feet hitting bread as the students stood. Voices shouted over the din, “Grizzly Doors, follow me!” or “Denny’s, this way!”

Giuseppe and Mermione made their way up a flight of stairs with a group of other Grizzly Doors. 

“Where are we going?” Giuseppe asked an older girl. 

“The dorms,” said the girl. “I’m Jo, by the way. I play soccer on the team here.”

“Nice,” said Giuseppe, “I’m Giuseppe. I don’t play soccer on the team here. What’s Jo short for?”

“Josephine Johanna Jasper,” said Jo.

“Nice to meet you, Jo,” said Mermione wisely.

The Grizzly Doors climbed several more flights of stairs until they reached a trapdoor. 

“Okay, to get in, you have to tap the trapdoor with your spoon and twirl around three times,” said Jo.

“Does everyone have to do that or can’t someone just hold the door?” asked Mermione. 

“Everyone has to do it or bad things happen,” said Jo.

Mermione and Giuseppe glanced at each other and got out their spoons wordlessly. When it was their turn, they tapped the door and twirled. “Thank you, you may enter,” said the door.

“You’re welcome,” said Giuseppe, and entered.

The entire dorm appeared to be comprised of one large room entirely made of bread from floor to ceiling. Already, Grizzly Doors were snuggling into the soft, warm bread of the floor and walls, curling up in piles on the floor. Jo followed close behind Mermione and Giuseppe. “Just go to sleep wherever,” said Jo, closing her eyes and falling over. She was snoring before she hit the bread.

Giuseppe and Mermione exchanged glances, and curled up on the bread floor. It was surprisingly comfortable.

“This is surprisingly comfortable,” said Mermione.

“Yes,” said Giuseppe, and fell asleep.


	4. The Golden Gnocchi

Giuseppe frowned in concentration. Making cannoli was harder than he had anticipated. Professor Twitwit, the desserts teacher, had told them to roll the cannoli shells before piping in the cream, but Giuseppe hadn’t rolled them fast enough and now half of them were cracked.

“Stupid shells,” said Giuseppe, angrily pouring cream into the intact cannoli shells.

“Here’s a trick for great cannoli,” said Ronold Sneezly from Cream-puff. Ronold put his tray in front of himself and slammed his face down in the middle of the pile of cannoli. He lifted his head with his face covered in cream and cannoli shells and smiled. “See? Now no one can tell the difference between them!” 

“Wonderful cannoli, Mr. Sneezly!” said Professor Twitwit enthusiastically.

Ronold beamed and punched Giuseppe’s shoulder lightly. Cream dripped off his face onto his shirt. “What did I tell you?”

“Let me try!” said Deville Shorttop from Slither-sin from Giuseppe’s other side. He planted his face in the middle of his plate of cannoli and came up shrieking. “Ah! My Gucci vest! It’s been ruined!”

Sure enough, globs of cannoli cream speckled the expensive garment.

“Come along, Mr. Shorttop,” said Professor Twitwit. “Let’s get you to the laundromat.”

The professor led Deville shrieking from the room.

“Yo, Giuseppe,” hissed Taco from across the class. “Look at those cannoli! Not fit for Ronold to stick his face in.”

Giuseppe had to restrain Ronald from planting his face in Giuseppe’s cannoli. “Yours are about as ugly as you are, Taco,” said Giuseppe.

A collective “Ohh!” rose from the class.

Taco went as red as cherry cough medicine. “To redeem my honor, I challenge thee to the tradition of the Golden Gnocchi!” He yelled, throwing his tray of cannoli to the ground.

“Deal!” said Giuseppe, also throwing his cannoli, although he had no idea what the Golden Gnocchi was.

“We each have until Professor Twitwit gets back to make the most perfect, round, pillowy gnocchi ever to be seen!” said Taco, pushing his workstation across the bread floor to the middle of the room. Giuseppe followed him.

“Ready, set, go!” screamed the class, and Giuseppe and Taco were off. Flour flew, eggs cracked, water boiled. Giuseppe and Taco stared into each other’s eyes as they kneaded dough and cut it into little gnocchis. Giuseppe couldn’t help but notice that Taco’s gnocchi were distinctly flat and grey, where as his own glowed with their own inner light.

“Wow, look at that gnocchi!”

“So average!”

“I wish I could make pasta like Giuseppe!”

Giuseppe lapped up the praise like grape juice, and soon he had his singularly perfect, pillowy gnocchi situated on a plate. Taco finished his gnocchi soon after.

Professor Twitwit burst into the room. “What is the meaning of this?” he asked, staring at Taco and Giuseppe.

“He started it!” Said Taco, pointing at Giuseppe.

“Professor, look at my gnocchi!” said Giuseppe, showing Twitwit the pasta in question.

“Wow,” said Twitwit. “That’s a darn nice gnocchi if I ever saw one. You should play soccer for us!”

Giuseppe blinked. “What--”

“Oh sorry, old age. I meant to say you should cook gnocchi competitively. I’ll speak to McDonalds about it later.”

“I’ll bear that in mind, professor,” said Giuseppe while Taco fumed at his workstation.

“Now, back to classwork!” said Professor Twitwit.

****

Giuseppe sat down at the Grizzly Door table at lunch an hour later and ravenously began to eat the cushions. He was very hungry.

“Y’all, I’m so hungry,” said Giuseppe Italianly around a mouthful of bread.

“Look at this!” said Mermione, holding up a newspaper. Giuseppe wondered where she had gotten a newspaper, as there was no mail service. “Somebody tried to steal a suitcase of meatballs the other day but they dropped it as soon as they opened it, and then they ran away!”

“Gee,” said Giuseppe, “That’s so wacky. Mr. Hagrid got a suitcase of meatballs the day we went to get my spoon from Mr. Pimento. I bet they can’t be connected, though.” Giuseppe continued to eat his seat cushions.

“Yeah,” said Mermione, “That is a logical explanation.” She took a bite of the wall.

“Hey, guys!” said Ronold from Cream-puff, wandering over to the Grizzly Door table and sitting down beside Giuseppe. “What’s up?”

Ronold still had cannoli cream all over his face. “Not much,” said Mermione, giving him a questioning look. Ronold sighed and stared dreamily at her. From down the table, the other new Grizzly Door, Gatorward, glared at them.

After lunch was announcements. McDonalds got up behind the podium and said, “Try-outs for soccer and gnocchi making start this week, please turn in all forms by tomorrow. We are offering an Italian cooking extra-curricular in the next month as well. Thank you, back to class.”

“Wow, Giuseppe, you should do gnocchi making,” said Mermione.

“Yeah,” said Ronold, “That gnocchi you made was totally rad, dude.”

“Besides,” said Mermione wisely, “Before your mother’s tragic death, she was a champion gnocchi maker. She could have had a career in gnocchi.”

Giuseppe blinked Italianly. “Y’all, what? I’m not at all competitive, you know.”

Mermione smiled wisely. “But your mother, Giuseppe.”

“I will do the gnocchi try-outs,” said Giuseppe.

“Great!” said Ronold and Mermione. “Let’s go to class.”


	5. Chapter 5

Their last class that day was Classic French Cuisine, which Mermione, Ronold, and Giuseppe all had together. The teacher, Professor Spout, was teaching them to poach fish.

“First, you must boil ze water,” said Professor Spout, demonstrating. “Zen, you must drop ze fish into ze water and set ze timer.”

Mermione looked distinctly bluer than usual. “Mermione, you look blue,” said Giuseppe.

Mermione shot him a scathing look. “I’m part mermaid, I always look blue.”

“But you look really blue,” said Ronold from Mermione’s other side. 

Mermione shuddered and said simply, “Fish.”

“Hey, Danger!” hissed Taco from across the room. “I think I found your uncle!” Taco held up a fish and laughed. Mermione went even bluer. 

Giuseppe waved his spoon threateningly at Taco. “Let’s drop you in a pot of water, I’ve always heard fish tacos are tasty.”

A collective “Ohh!” rose from the class. Taco went red.

“Quiet down!” called Professor Spout.

“See you at gnocchi try outs, Stromboli,” said Taco, and dropped his fish into the pot.

Mermione shot to her feet, dropping her fish to the floor. “Professor Spout, this is outrageous! I am outraged! I am leaving.”

Professor Spout nodded understandingly. “I am very sorry to have hurt your feelings with zis lesson plan, Mermione. It vwas insensitive of me. I apologize.” 

“Thank you, but I am leaving,” said Mermione, and left.

“Me, too!” said Nicholas Phineas from Slither-sin, and he followed Mermione.

“Strike! Strike! Strike!” the class began to chant.

“Now listen here--” said Professor Spout, but she was drowned out. Giuseppe banged his spoon on the table, joining the chant. Their voices were muffled by the bread walls, but they shouted all the louder. Only Wheet from Cream-puff didn’t join in. He sat in the back staring morosely at his fish.

It took Professor McDonalds showing up to quiet them down, and even then, there were rebellious mutterings.

By the end of the class, everyone had refused to cook their fish and Professor Spout was forced to let them go early. Ronold and Giuseppe went out into the hall to find Mermione and Nicholas Phineas talking to a professor in a baseball cap.

“I’m Professor Squirrel,” said Squirrel by way of introduction, doffing his baseball cap. He had another, smaller baseball cap on underneath. “I was just talking to Mermione and Nicholas Phineas here about how they could start a school-wide movement to ban fish if they want, and we could see who would join.”

“Sounds totally rad, Professor Squirrel,” said Ronold, who still hadn’t wiped the cannoli cream off his face. It had been there so long, Giuseppe couldn’t remember what Ronold’s face looked like underneath the cannolis. 

“Mmm,” said Squirrel, eyeing Ronold, “Yes, I have a feeling it might be superbly ‘radical.’ Now, if you’d excuse me.”

Squirrel was swept away by a tide of students.

“Wow!” said Mermione wisely. “I hope we have a class with him! He knows so much about how to cook vegetables!”

“Weren’t we talking about fish, though?” asked Nicholas Phineas.

“Yes,” said Mermione, smiling.

“Well, we’ll have to see tomorrow,” said Giuseppe. “We’re going to be late for dinner.”

The group set off, but Giuseppe couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. It wasn’t until much later that it struck him as he snuggled up in the Grizzly Door common room on a bed of bread. Squirrel had smelled like meatballs and garlic: the same smell as in Mr. Pimento’s chiropractic practice. And the same smell as the suitcase of meatballs.


	6. Chapter 6

Giuseppe nibbled on a cookie that had made up a tile in the floor, although the young adult did not have much appetite. His orbs wandered around the classroom, and he barely heard what Professor McDonalds was explaining about melons. His thoughts were occupied entirely by the thought of the gnocchi team try outs later that afternoon. 

“Melons are melons,” said Professor McDonalds as she paced up and down the classroom. “They are the meloniest of foods, very melony.”

Mermione raised her hand wisely. “They go well in soups.”

Professor McDonalds clapped. “You took the words right out of my mouth, Danger, but please don’t interrupt me, we haven’t gotten to that part of the discussion yet. Now, melons--”

Giuseppe laid his head down on his desk, his half-eaten cookie crumbling in his hand. He couldn’t wait a moment longer.

When the bell finally rang, Giuseppe grabbed his school bag and zoomed past the young adults filing out of the classroom, sprinting out the castle steps between the baguette pillars and towards the soccer fields, where workstations had been set up for the gnocchi making.

Several young adults and teens were already there, as well as spectators in the bleachers. Mermione, Ronold, and Nicholas Phineas all waved enthusiastically at Giuseppe. Professor McDonalds glared down at the field, while Professor Squirrel looked on disdainfully, his baseball cap planted firmly on his head. Giuseppe spotted Taco standing in the field. Giuseppe glared daggers at Taco, their orbs locked as they glared daggers at each other.

Tuna Hatebad from Denny’s glanced at them and muttered something under her breath.

Professor Snap strode onto the field. His greasy hair swayed greasily in the wind. He was dressed all in black. He simply exuded greasiness. He looked like a greasy vampire that had just eaten a garlic sandwich. 

“Line up, you miserable worms,” said Professor Snap, “Or I’ll grind you into flour and mix you in with my gnocchi.”

Tuna Hatebad muttered something else. “What was that, Hatebad?” snapped Snap, marching up to her.

“I said you look like an oversized bat dropped in olive oil,” yelled Tuna.

Snap sniffled. “Yeah, but you didn’t have to put it that way. I’m very sensitive, you know, ever since I lost the title of Gnocchi Master all those years ago.”

Tuna smirked. “Toughen up, buttercup.”

Snap burst into tears. “Shut up, Tuna,” he sobbed. “Go!” said Snap, then wailed, “Make your stupid gnocchi!”

Giuseppe hurried to a workstation and began cracking eggs and boiling water. Soon he had several dozen beautiful gnocchi swimming merrily in his pot, each glowing golden and nice.

“Wow!” said Tuna Hatebad, glancing into Giuseppe’s pot. “So average! I wish mine were like that.”

Giuseppe smiled. “The chef never reveals his secrets,” said Giuseppe.

Giuseppe had just scooped his gnocchi out of the pot when Snap called, “Time!” around a decidedly greasy and wet handkerchief.

Snap slowly made his way around the workstations, silently judging the quality of various gnocchi, until he came to Giuseppe’s table.

“Hmm, very golden, nice and fluffy, very average--” Snap caught sight of Giuseppe’s face and shrieked.

“What? What is it?” asked Giuseppe in a panic, panicking.

“You!” screamed Snap.

“Who?” said Giuseppe.

“It was your mother who disgraced me in trial by gnocchi, who ruined my reputation! She, who ruined me through gnocchi before she died tragically!” Snap leaned over Giuseppe’s workstation, staring intensely into Giuseppe’s intensely green orbs.

“Please don’t drip on my gnocchi,” said Giuseppe, gesturing in distain to Snap’s greasy being.

“Oooh!” said everyone.

Snap leaned back, straightening his black robes. “You will never be on any gnocchi team of mine!” declared Snap declaratively, and swept away. “I have made my decision. You will hear back by Tuesday.”

Giuseppe bowed his head dejectedly. “Oof,” he said. 

Professor McDonalds made her way down from the bleachers. “See? You’re a failure,” she said.

“Thank you,” said Giuseppe, and walked away.

He found Ronold, Mermione, and Nicholas Phineas standing behind the bleachers along with Ronold’s little sister Penny, who glowered at Giuseppe. She glowered at everyone, for that matter.

“Hey, y’all,” said Giuseppe, both Italianly and dejectedly.

“Don’t feel bad about what McDonalds said,” said Mermione wisely.

Giuseppe didn’t ask how she knew. “I’m going to go scream into the void,” said Giuseppe, and walked away.

“Bye,” said Ronold. Nicholas Phineas was picking bits of cannoli shell off of Ronold’s face and nibbling at them. Penny glared.

Just as Giuseppe came around the bleachers, he saw them. Deville glanced both ways, hunched over something that he was hiding with his Gucci vest. Professor Squirrel stood beside him and took something from him, took off his baseball cap, and tucked the something under the smaller baseball cap beneath. 

Suspicious, Giuseppe waited until Deville had walked a little ways away before following him. The closer he got to Deville, the stronger the smell of garlic and cheese became.

Giuseppe gasped. The meatballs! “This is suspicious, it must have nothing to do with the meatballs,” said Giuseppe to himself, and went back to the Grizzly Door common room.


	7. Ruby's Hut

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy y'all, what's up? How's it going?
> 
> Yeah. Not much more to be said. Have a chapter, as a treat. Happy holidays!

“What’s up, y’all?” said Giuseppe Italianly the next morning at breakfast. “I thought today I would introduce y’all to Mr. Hagrid, seeing as y’all’t’st’ve met him yet and it’s our day off.”

“Sounds great!” said Mermione.

Ronold put his cannoli-covered face on the table. “I’m so sad,” he said. “We haven’t heard from home in weeks.”

“Nonsense, Ronold!” said Nicholas Phineas. “We’re all happy here!”

Ronold frowned. “No, we--”

“Wow, would you look at the time!” said Mermione wisely. There were no clocks. “We’d better go see Mr. Hagrid now.”

Ronold frowned more. “But it’s only--”

Giuseppe crammed a piece of wall in his mouth. “Let’s go!”

Ronold shrugged and followed Nicholas Phineas, Mermione, and Giuseppe out of the castle and down the path to Mr. Hagrid’s house, which was quite large, and sat in the middle of a field, not a tree in sight. It was also painted bright pink, and it was spotless. Roses climbed the chimney.

Giuseppe climbed the steps and knocked on Mr. Hagrid’s door. Mr. Hagrid answered moments later in a pink apron, the smell of fresh-baked cookies drifting through the air. A white kitten wound around his ankles.

“Hello, Mr. Hagrid!” said Giuseppe.

“Why, hello, Giuseppe!” said Mr. Hagrid. “Would you like to come in?”

“Thank you, Mr. Hagrid,” said Giuseppe. He and his friends went into Mr. Hagrid’s house. It was very messy inside, and loud music played on a speaker. There was an electric guitar and band posters hung on the black walls. The white kitten hissed at Giuseppe, and its eyes flashed red.

“Aesthetic,” said Giuseppe, and sat down on a black velvet chair.

Mr. Hagrid beamed, bringing over a tray of pink lemonade. “I designed it me-self. Do ya like it Giuseppe?”

“It’s very nice, Mr. Hagrid,” said Mermione.

“Mr. Hagrid, are you alright?” asked Nicholas Phineas as Mr. Hagrid almost dropped the pink lemonade. 

“Now that you mention it, no,” said Mr. Hagrid, turning to Giuseppe. “Remember that briefcase of meatballs I got the day we picked up yer spoon, Giuseppe? Well, it’s been stolen.”

“No!” said Giuseppe. “Really?”

“Yesterday,” said Mermione wisely.

“Yeah, and Bumblebore’s really upset. He yelled at me.”

“Oof,” said Nicholas Phineas.

“Do you have any idea who stole the meatballs?” asked Ronold. The kitten had climbed into his lap and was licking his face.

“No,” said Giuseppe and Mr. Hagrid at the same time. They glanced at each other sideways. There was a moment of silence.

“Anyways,” said Mr. Hagrid, “How are things up at the school?”

“Mr. Hagrid, your cat is trying to eat me,” said Ronold. The kitten had latched onto Ronold’s ear.

“Oh, don’t worry, she isn’t poisonous enough to kill you,” said Mr. Hagrid.

“Oh, well, in that case, I guess this is fine,” said Ronold, sipping his lemonade. 

They chatted for a while, finishing their lemonade, then got up to leave. Ronold detached the kitten from his ear, which was purple and swelling.

“Thanks, Mr. Hagrid,” said Mermione. “See you soon!”

“Bye!” said Mr. Hagrid, waving at them. “Ta-ta!” 

“Good bye, for now, Mr. Hagrid,” said Mermione wisely, and they left.

On their way back up to the bread castle, they spotted a small, fuel-efficient black car driving up the hillside to the front doors.

“Huh,” said Nicholas Phineas, “I wonder how they got here.”

“They drove,” said Mermione wisely. The group strolled over to the car, where a man was getting out. He was tall and thin with a long beard dyed lavender purple.

“Hello,” called Giuseppe. “Who are you?”

“I am Moldywarts, the health inspector.” Moldywarts glared down his long, hooked nose at Giuseppe. “There have been some… disturbing rumors about this school.”

“Oh, no,” said Ronold, rubbing at a bit of cannoli on his face, “Everything’s normal here.”

Moldywarts nodded. “Yes, I can see that, but it is my sacred duty to ensure health. Could you show me to the headmaster’s office?”

The young adults exchanged a look. None of them had actually ever been to Bumblebore’s office. However, they were saved when McDonalds strolled out the front doors and up to Mr. Moldywart’s car. 

“I expected you to come by spice, Kevin,” said McDonalds. “I mean, train.”

Mr. Moldywarts narrowed his eyes. “I hope I am not intruding, Magenta.”

“Oh, no, quite the opposite.” McDonalds took a step forward. “You are always welcome here, Kevin, as you well know.”

Moldywarts smiled happily. “I’m glad we can remain friends, Magenta.”

McDonalds smiled and batted her eyes. “As am I, Kevin.”

The young adults exchanged a look. “They like each other,” said Mermione wisely as Moldywarts and McDonalds walked arm in arm up the steps to the school.

“Kind of obvious,” said Ronold scornfully. “Come on, let’s go.”

The young adults followed Moldywarts and McDonalds into the castle and down the winding halls. Moldywarts complemented the construction and how the air always smelled like fresh bread. McDonalds sighed happily. 

“Here we are,” said McDonalds as the group came to an unmarked door. Then she spotted the young adults. “What are you doing, sulking around? Shoo, away with you!”

“No, no, I’d like to interview some students about their experience with health here, Magenta,” said Moldywarts. “After all, it is my sacred duty.”

McDonalds shrugged. “Alright, if you wish.”

They opened the door and entered Bumblebore’s office.

It was very dim and dusty. All the curtains were drawn. A television was set up in the corner, but only showed static. A green glow came from a fish tank in the other corner. Bumblebore himself sat in an armchair, surrounded by books and gadgetry on a table before him. 

“Ah!” He said, leaping heterosexually to his feet. A bagel fell off the top of his head and into his lap. A half-eaten bowl of cream cheese with a spoon stuck in it sat on the table. “Howdy partners!” He said, smiling at Moldywarts.

“Hello, Bumblebore,” said Moldywarts. “How are you?”

Bumblebore stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans and rocked on his heels in an aggressively straight manner. “Oh, you know. Just dandy.”

“Good, because we need to close the school immediately.”

“What?” asked Bumblebore in shock.

“But Kevin--” said McDonalds.

“There have been several breaches in health here,” said Moldywarts. “Firstly, there are children here who have feet. Secondly, they walk on said feet. There are meatballs involved here, Bumblebore!”

Bumblebore stroked his chin in a very hetero manner, straightening his flannel jacket. “I see your point, but years of tradition! Such talent as you’ve never seem lies within these walls, partner.”

Moldywarts smoothed a wrinkle from his wrinkle-free his suit and rubbed his purple beard between his palms. “I understand, but it is my sacred duty.”

Bumblebore bowed his head and braced his arms against the table in a heterosexual manner. He sighed. “I suppose we have no choice.”

“But Bumblebore!” cried Giuseppe, stepping forward boldly and Italianly, “Can’t y’all do something?”

“I’m afraid not, Giuseppe,” said Bumblebore sadly and very heterosexually. “Kevin has spoken.”

“Bumblebore, if I may,” said Mermione, stepping forward too, “Couldn’t we just not let Moldywarts tell anyone? I mean, if he just stayed here and no one heard he’d be the only one who knew, if you catch my drift, and besides, I thought the meatballs were supposed to be a secret. Can’t have it getting out that they’ve been stolen.”

All eyes turned to Kevin Moldywarts, who gulped nervously, rubbing his hands together around his pink beard faster. “Now, hold on, we can come to an agreement--”

“An excellent idea, Mermione! You’ll get a trophy for that,” said Bumblebore. “Magenta, kindly lock Kevin in the dungeon.”

McDonalds hesitated for a moment, then said, “I’m sorry Kevin, but like you said before when we talked on the parapet all those years ago, duty will always come first, no matter how strong my love for you.” She smiled sadly, pulling her spoon and a bottle of spices from her pocket. “Goodbye, Kevin.”

“Wait, Magenta, no!” cried Moldywarts, but McDonalds dumped some spices on her spoon and threw them in Moldywart’s face. Moldywarts shrieked, coughed, and was gone in a puff of pepper-scented smoke. 

“I never did like him much, anyways,” said McDonalds, pocketing her spoon. 

“He never asked us anything,” said Ronold, troubled.

“He didn’t need to,” said Bumblebore kindly and hetero-ly. “Now, you all are very clever. Could you do me a favor and get to the bottom of this meatball business for me? I’d be very grateful.”

“Of course, Bumblebore!” said Nicholas Phineas.

“We’d be glad to help y’all,” said Giuseppe Italianly. 

“Good,” said Bumblebore with a straight twinkle in his eye, “Now, off you go!”


End file.
